Gathering
by Syri-LLC
Summary: Due to a mixture of terror and laudanum, Daniel makes the foolish mistake of trying to flee Brennenburg after the first ritual. But the servants lurk the woods and bring him back to Alexander, who decides if Daniel does not wish to harm the prisoners, then he may become one for the night. Afterall, experience is the best tutor.


The door to Daniels gust room slid closed with a heavy, resounding clank, the latch sliding into the door frame with an aged creak, just like the rest of this God-forsaken castle. Daniel stood still where he was, sweat drenched back pressed against the door, feeling it's raised ridges and carvings against his spine. He was shaking, still. he could feel it weaken his knees, and hear his fingernails drumming against the wood. He sighed gustily and drew his arms up to cross in front of his chest, as though wanting to pin down his quivering hands. He avoided looking at them as he did so. Daniel didn't want to see them. They felt filthy, sticky, as though still caked in thick, drying blood. He knew they couldn't be; Alexander had provided a large basin of scalding water to scrub them clean in, even a bristle brush. SO matter of fact was his voice, telling Daniel how to get the last flecks out from under his nails and Daniel, still numb then, had obeyed without thought.

Now, though, upstairs, away from the cold of the dungeons, Daniel felt it all, and not just his own shock and disgust, but that mans suffering as well. He felt acid burning foully in his throat, and bent slightly, pressing his arms around his middle as pain seared through it. Was it nerves making him ill, or a sort of sadistic sympathy pain for the prisoner on the table? The one that Daniel had...?

An empty vase near the fireplace was the nearest place Daniel could reach before his nausea took over. His shoulders hunched up, back bent like a bow as he retched loudly into the vase. That man, he'd been awake. he'd been lucid, begging for their mercy, for God's forgiveness, for theirs. His screams were as clear as though he were still alive and shouting them at him now, but that wasn't true. He was dead. A murderer, Alexander had reminded him with a rock-solid certainty. He had blood on his own hands, and an equal blood could be spilled for his just punishment, and for Daniel's own salvation. So perfect, two pieces to a puzzle, carved by fate to match one another.

Cut him, Alexander had said, and Daniel did. Take his life, save your own!

His stomach churned, and hot tears poured from his eyes as he gagged again. Only bile now, corrosive and tearing at his throat like glass, but he didn't mind. Didn't wish for water to sooth the pain. Besides, even if he'd had the strength to fetch it, he doubted he'd keep it down long.

Slowly, his stomach began to settle, though his midsection still pinched and writhed with cramps. Daniel didn't trust himself to move, afraid of being sick again, and dry heaving. Instead, he just sat near the fire, wishing he had the will to draw nearer. The Prussian woods weren't warm at night, even in August, and the perspiration drying on Daniel's skin drew his heat away faster than the flames could provide a replacement.  
There was a sharp rap on the door not long after, and even if Daniel wasn't the sole border of a recluse, he'd have known it was Alexander. He knocked only once, loud and resounding, before calling for him.

"Daniel? I know you're not asleep, so open the door, please." Though muffled through the heavy door, Alexanders voice lost none of its confidence nor authority. When Daniel failed to answer, Alexander, surely seeing no trespass as master of the house, let himself into Daniel's room, a brass oil lamp leading his footsteps with flickering amber light.

"Ah, as I thought. I knew you would still be awake." He strode closer, measured, graceful steps. Even in his half-daze, Daniel still admired the baron greatly, regarding nearly everything he did with a sense of awe. Even here, standing but in his trousers and shirt at one in the morning, Alexander stood tall, staring at Daniel with an appraising pair of eyes, lit sharply by the lamp. Daniel finally drew his own eyes up, though didn't dare to meet Alexander's.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing making camp on the floor? Surely the bed I have provided for you suits your tastes just fine, Daniel."

Daniel couldn't speak. Didn't trust himself to open his mouth, so instead, he just nodded. He didn't want Alexander to think he was snubbing his hospitality. Even with the weight of the night's trauma still crushing his chest, this still seemed like something important. He didn't want Alexander's displease...what if h decided to withdraw his help?

The baron made a noise in the back of his throat. "Then, is there something else keeping you from sleep, besides the usual? I tend to find you roaming the archives and the library when insomnia takes you, not rolling about the floor like a child."

When Daniel again could only stare at Alexanders shoes without word, he sighed, and Daniel heard the soft clank of the oil lamp being placed atop the mantle. Next thing he knew, Alexander had his hands wrapped firmly around Daniel's forearms, hosting him to his feet. Daniel still marveled at how strong and healthy his host was, for a man surely nearing his seventies! How easily he had pressed the man to the wooden bench, wrestled his limbs into the half-rusted shackles...there was a practice to his motions in the dungeon that night, such was not lost on Daniel...how sad, to be burdened with the dregs of the world's responsibilities!

He swallowed thickly, his mouth tasting bitter and foul still. "A..Alexander," he finally ground out once he was on his feet. "My apologies, sir, I just...I'm not feeling well. You needn't trouble yourself, though, I'll just wash up and..."

But a raised hand is all that it takes to quiet Daniel.

"You're still in a state from this evening, aren't you," Alexander answers, not bothering to question. His voice, thous sure, isn't accusatory, which shouldn't surprise Daniel by now. Alexander doesn't show his displeasure with sneers or a raised voice. It's as though he's above such temperamental displays, and can correct Daniel simply with the uncanny ability to somehow always say exactly what Daniel least wants to hear; the truth he doesn't want to face.

"I, ah...Yes, Alexander," Daniel murmurs, being lead slowly across the entry way and into his bedroom. "I just...I'm having a very hard time grappling with what happened tonight. I know what you taught me was for my benefit, yet I feel like a...like a monster!"

Alexander allows Daniel to sit himself on the edge of his bed, sore legs grateful to be free of their burden.  
"I see," Alexander's voice rumbles evenly. "And then, do you see myself as a monster, Daniel? As I told you, part of my duties include acting as a warden, and in some cases, the burden of executioner falls on me as well. This is not the first life I have had to take out of necessity. Do you see my acts as monstrous?"

Daniel was aghast, his gray eyes widening in ashamed horror. "No!" he roars, his voice finding a passion. "Baron Alexander, I look at you and see nothing of the sort! What duties you are required by title to fulfill, the blame for it can't fall on you..."

"So why," Alexander reasoned, Do you prescribe a similar blame to yourself?"

Daniel had no immediate answer. He looked up at Alexander, who stood next to his bedside. "I just...I've never had to do such a thing..."

His host nods sympathetically, but his coddling goes no further than that. "If you wish to return home to London alive, Daniel, you're going to have to grow a thick skin to it. Remember, these are not innocent men! They are not your Christian brothers. They're murderers, rapists, degenerates who murdered their wives, children, their fathers and dearest friends. They're condemned to death anyway, Daniel. You may as well use their sins to pathe the road to your salvation. In a way, even, you are giving their lives a deeper purpose than they could hope to accomplish, rotting away in my prison."

He nods, understanding and hearing it all, but finding it hard to accept. Alexanders words are comforting though, if even just a little. It is true, they were not free men with a life to live anyway...perhaps their sacrificial bloodspill paid a debt on their own souls as well...it was a nice thought.

Alexander was studying his face intently, and smiled as he saw his features relax the smallest bit.  
"There, I knew you would come to reason," he simpered. "Now. Wash up, dress for bed. Are you hungry? No? Alright. Then I'll bring you a bottle of laudanum, to relax you, help you to sleep. You need your rest tonight."

"Yes, Alexander..."

He seemed to consider that the end of their discussion, which he certainly had won. He left Daniel to wash his face, and try to brush the snarls form his hair. He was exhausted tonight, hs eyes heavy and muscles weak, but his mind, he knew, would not allow sleep. Not tonight. Not under the most relaxing and hopeful of circumstances, and certainly not tonight.

When Alexander returned some time late,r Daniel was already in his nightgown, and he did indeed withdraw a bottle of laudanum from his pocket.

"It's a tad stronger than what I usually offer you," he says as means of a warning. "So take it, drink a glass of water, and set yourself directly to bed. You wouldn't want to wake and find yourself going for a midnight swim in the fountain, would you."

Daniel shook h head, and thanks Alexander shakily for the bottle. He was hardly out the door before he uncorked it and raised it to his lips..but he faltered, his hand beginning to shake again. Did he really deserve the blissful unawareness the drug provided? a night of dreamless sleep, to wake some semblance of rested? Or did he deserve to lie awake the night through again, in prayer perhaps, to sort through his still alight conscience? His resolve seemed to have been a lot stronger with Alexander in the room, his unshrinking confidence intoxicating. Alexander didnot doubt his decisions, and in maters like this, Daniel could see only vanity and pride as causing him to think he knew better than the baron!

He downed the bottle before he could get into another argument with his mind, one he was sorely afraid he'd loose. It burned his throat; he couldn't identify the alcohol used, but it was indeed strong. A few sips of water- he didn't trust himself to down a whole glass and have it stay there- and drew back his covers to crawl in bed.

He expected it to take a good half-hour, which seemed to be the norm, yet it was only moments later that he felt the unrelenting tug of sleep, warm arms offering a respite for his worried mind.

)o(

Daniel awoke in a blind panic, sitting upright so fast that his whole room spun around him. He clenched his eyes and waited for the vertigo to pass, but it didn't relent, his vision continuing to undulate along with the speeding pound of his heart.

Where was he?! Whe...no. His room, Brennenburg, that he knew. Why was he so hot? he was burning, drenched in sweat with his hair plastered to his cheeks. So hot, uncomfortable, but the buttons on his long nightgown proved too difficult a challenge for him, though truthfully he spared only a second to fumble with them.

...blood. A dagger. Alexander nearby, urging, the man screaming...oh God, it all came flooding back to him in a boiling wave of grief, and Daniel cried out into the stifling darkness of his room-

Darkness. It was dark..sometime during the night the warm, comforting fire in the hearth had gone out, leaving only the dimmest glowing ember. It was more than he could handle right now. He threw back the covers and leapt to his feet, only to immediately feel his kneel buckle under him.

He hit the floor with an audible crack, and he grit his teeth to not cry out as his shoulder collided with the bedframe. He didn't have time to mind that. He needed...ah...a candle, or a lantern...did Alexander leave the lantern before, when he was hear to...erm...Why had Alexander been here? What did they discuss? All Daniel could remember was the metallic stench of blood, a faint scent of rot underneath, his gasping breath...no, that was in the present!

He panted, wrapping his arms around himself, as though armoring himself against whatever dangers the shadows felt in them. He looked about, towards the window, but it was only a half moon and a meager light filtered through the cracks in the curtains.

He quivered, and tugged at the front of his nightgown. Still so hot, still bathed in sweat..how was it so hot with no fire alight? he felt as though he was standing in flames, hot as hellfire...  
...yes. Hellfire. That must be it, he realized with a panic tingling through his nerves. The devil reaching out to ensnare him, to punish him for the capital sin of murder. a charming demon with white hair, and queer colored eyes!

Daniel gasped for another full chest of air, no easy struggle with his muscles all feeling as though they were about to seize. He had to get otu! Aexander was a devil, it must be! He killed men...no, criminals...? ...men! He slaughtered them, he might slaughter him next! or simply place another blade in his hand...

He grabbed at the footboard to haul himself to his feet, rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm as though wishing to just swipe away the nauseating dizziness that threatened to drag him back down to the floor again. Why did he feel ill...?

"Nevermind that now!" Daniel ground out, speaking to himself, or the empty room, he didn't bother to note which. He stumbled forward out of his bedroom, then turned to find the door to the entrance hall. Out..he had to leave. Back to London, back home, away from here! Away from Alexander and the shadow and those men screaming for their redemption in the crumbling cell blocks below!

All but a few lights had been extinguished in the entrance hall, but it was enough for Daniel to walk by. Or stagger by, as the case may be. he was barely able to coordinate his feet down the curved stone staircase, and even then, he all but slid down the last several steps, scraping his knees in the process...strange, why did they not hurt?

He avoided the otherworldly gaze of the fountain, it's writhing stone body no more appealing to Daniels eyes now than it was upon his arrival. Down another few stairs, faster, had to go faster, had to run, why couldn't he run?! his feet felt as though they were trudging through mud or slop, and for a moment his unfocused eyes even lost sight of the first door.

For a moment he panicked, afraid ti was locked when he couldn't open it, but it was only a slip of his sweaty hands. A short hallway, a short sprint, nearly knocking an unlit torch off the wall, a final door..why was it so hot outside? Daniel had hoped for the cool forest air to dry the sweat from his face, quench the fire coursing over his skin, all but scalding him...

Ah well..he was free. Though the pines around him spun and waxed and waned out of focus, he felt the blackened forest, somehow, a welcome respite from the suffocating walls of Brennenburg. Slowly he began his way forward, cobblestone under his feet changing smoothly to packed earth, then to beds of pineneedles...did he wander off the path? And when did he lose his shoes? ...Had he been wearing shoes at all tonight? Oh...he was still clothed in his nightgown, the pale cream linen seeming to almost glow in the anemic moonlight. he tugged at the ruffle around his wrist as though wondering where the garment had come from...had he not taken the time to...?

No matter. He continued forward, barely feeling the scrape of bark against his unsteady body, cutting his hands where he stretched them out to catch his balance. Still, it didn't sting, and neither did the nettles under his bare feet prick or jab. At lest, not that he could feel, which was the strange thing about it. It only caused him the slightest pause though, as it didn't rank very high up on his list of things to expend his energy on. Running was number one, save for the fact that he seemed completely impossible.  
Why wouldn't his legs move as he wished? he wanted to run, willed them to carry him through these woods and as far away from the castle as he could go! He knew if he turned around...and if he could somehow focus his swimming vision long enough to tell, that Brennenburg would be only a few moments behind him...but how long had he been going? A few minutes? a quarter hour? more?

God his heart felt like it was pounding through his ribs. Finally Daniel stopped his wandering long enough to grab hold of a nearby bough, and try to breathe. He wanted a deep, calming breath, but it wasn't too be had. He was too scared, it was too dark...why hadn't he grabbed a lantern? Why hadn't he grabbed shoes? Well...for once, the oppressing night seemed to be the better option. It was dark in that castle, in a different and far more chilling way. He never thought he'd say this, but the lightness woods at night were almost prefera-

C-C-C-C-CRRRACK!

Daniels stomach dropped. What was that?! Alexander had...had he given him warning to not wander off into the forest? Were there creatures living here? Wolves, mountain lions, boars? He had no idea! But he'd heard something. Something heavy, by the sound of the branch breaking.

He swallowed thickly, his mouth dry like cotton wool. W...well he didn't want to go that direction anyway! Yes, exactly..

Daniel spun a quarter turn on his heel...and hit the ground hard. Good God, what was wrong with him?! he couldn't run, could hardly see..He groaned, his stomach starting to ache...from the dizziness, eh had to assume. He planted his hands onto the forest floor to try and push himself upright again, though he'd barely made it to his knees before he heard it. A deep, warbling groan, almost a growl, echoing through the pines.  
Suddenly Daniel didn't feel broiling hot anymore. Indeed, his heart seemed to suddenly be pumping ice through his veins, as the last remnants of that...that sound reached his ears and faded. That was no wolf not wildcat nor feral boar! he couldn't name any animal it could belong to, and while it was true he was no biologist, his travels had exposed him to some quaintly exotic species.

Whatever it was, he didn't want to meet it...but was it suddenly such a good idea to run?! he tried to gather his thoughts, but they were muddled, and he couldn't seem to find a way to connect them, as each sprung up in singularity, completely independent of the former and the next. He had to run...Brenneburg was dangerous, a living demon ruling its grounds...the shadow...how long would it be at bay? was it following him? Alexander might follow him...Aldstadt. He had to run...run...where was he running? To Brennenburg? but it was dangerous...wasn't it?

God he felt ill. His head, the dizziness, and now shaking from cold. He wanted to sit, to rest, to try and gather his thoughts, but no sooner did he pause in his wanderings, but another of those unholy groans filled the sky, and Daniel was certain this one was closer. He pressed himself closer to the towering evergreen nearby, seeking protection under its thick branches...could he climb? Could whatever was in these woods climb? Was the risk of a broken neck worth it?

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Back to the castle, then! It was closer than any sanctuary he could seek in these woods...but where was it?! A towering stone edifice, all but mingling with the clouds, and suddenly Daniel couldn't see it anywhere! His already aching lungs burned now, as he struggled to breathe; he was lost! He ran the way he'd came...or thought he'd came, and looked up madly, but he began to realize how dense the canopy was. He coudl barely see the moon, let alone Brennenburg! How coudl he loose an entire damned castle?!

There was that roar again, and Daniel tensed, ears pricked. Listening was proving as difficult as looking, though, with his pulse thrumming through his ears in a jack-rabbit thrum-thrum-thrum. Where had it come from? Behind him? But...he'd turned around..were there more than one of...of whatever it was?

Daniels mind filled itelf to spilling with images of glistening fangs, matted fur and claws long as daggers, nightmare images from grisly stories. What else was he to assume but rabid animals? He clutched aimlessly at his burning chest, and felt his heart beating lke a drum below his skin. Wh...where? Where was it, where was HE?! He staggered, and reached out for a limb to steady him. But it must have been further away than his oil-smeared vision told him, because he hit the ground again, hard enough to knock the air from his chest.

His instincts took hold. Don't be on the ground! Don't look weak, don't appear to be a near-dead feast! but he couldn't stand. He couldn't get his legs to bear his weight, and each attempt simply landed him more cuts and growing terror. Clambering for rocks, roots, whatever he coudl grab onto, Daniel tried to give his drenched body some momentum, something to get him to his feet.

That's when he saw it, and for a moment Daniel was sure he had indeed found himself in the great Inferno, for the creature that emerged before him was no beast of fur and fangs. Instead, it stood on two legs, like a person, but it wasn't a human either. It was a grotesque parody of a man, once pink flesh now a sickly, rotten yellow, stitched and bound by lengths of leather strap, suggesting the creature was like to fall apart of not properly bolted. Indeed his jaw in particular threatened to fall from its face as it hung halfway down its chest.

Daniel was frozen in his disbelief, his need for self-preservation dampened by his physical exhaustion, and by his immense and terrified awe.

The spell broke when that thing let out that noise, that gurgling, toneless call, and Daniel caught a glimpse of glistening metal at it hand.

He didn't remember how he managed to scramble to his feet, or how he willed them to carry him swiftly and deftly through the forest. All he knew was the drive to sprint, to pour every ounce of his body's energy into putting as much distance between himself and the nightmare behind him. The village, Brennenburg, he didn't care! Just anything that would prove a respite!

It didn't seem able to run as swiftly as he could. Not at first. But Daniel couldn't keep the chase up, not as the laudanum begun to leave his body. He knew now, that must be the source of his fog, his lack of coordination, and his completely barking mad loss of sense! What a daft choice, he scolded himself as he ducked under a broken limb. To go tearing through the Prussian woods at God knows what hour, running from a fear that had already been patiently soothed away! Damned drink was more potent than he-!

There was another one. There, in a small clearing up ahead, and Daniel banked as hard left as he could, praying it wouldn't see him, wouldn't hear him! How many WERE there?! And what were they?

He dared not look back, to see if it was after him, and was making far too much noise of his own to hear its footsteps...which he realized once it was entirely too late to soften his footfalls. Because there it was in front of him, close enough to count its broken and rotten teeth, hanging by nerves from its jaw.

Daniel tried to scream when he saw the creature raise its arm high, but hadn't the time. All he had the time for was the stomach-churning realization that the blades were crafted into the very bone itself, before even the dim moonlight was lost to darkness.

)o(

This is likely to be three parts. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
